A Change of Heart
by auringopaiste76
Summary: Molly's finally find a boyfriend who treats her right, so why can't she can't stop thinking about Sherlock? A Sherlolly love-triangle.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! This is my first time writing fan-fiction. I'm not sure how long this story will be, but I hope you enjoy the Sherlolly angst. Any feedback would be awesome :)**

Molly glanced up in her mirror as she wiped a brush full of pink-gold blush on her left cheek. A fashion magazine had recommended it as being the best color on the market. As she applied to her other cheek, she couldn't help but feel like the editors had to have been right. It really did make her look "naturally flushed," as the not-so-candid name of the NARS product promised its users.

As she started to apply her eyeliner, she realized just how strange it was for her to get ready for something that she never felt that she could successfully. Something that she dreaded ever since _he _took the pleasure of pointing out how dreadful her dating life had been. Molly smirked as she drew a dark cat eye on her lid. She wondered how Mr. Sherlock Holmes would react if he saw her now: dressed up in chiffon LBD paired with gold heels and dramatic 60's eye makeup. He'd probably tell her that the gold-flecked lip-gloss that she just applied was "refracting light at an angle that makes her already small lips look even smaller."

Molly giggled as the daydream popped into her head. Thank god she was finally over Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

It hadn't been easy for her to let Sherlock out of her life. He had always known that he was her greatest weakness, which is why he had come to her with his greatest need: faking his death.

She complied with his request, now one year ago, being the dutiful, mousy Molly that she was at the time. She administered the serum that slowed his breathing and heartbeat to the point that medics would overlook their presence. She had taken his bruised body into the morgue, faked his autopsy, and told the police that he was dead. She even allowed him to stay with her for a few days to recover from the fall that nearly killed him—a stay that proved to be Molly's breaking point.

* * *

The night after the fall, she had let him lean his broken body on her shoulder as she shuffled him up to her flat. Upon entering, Sherlock fell on her couch and was out before Molly could turn on the lights.

"_You were wrong, you know. You do count_." Molly heard Sherlock's words reverberate around her head as she carried a blanket to cover the sleeping consulting detective. His bluntness had surprised her. Molly knew that Sherlock had been friendly with her (more or less to gain access to her morgue), but his revelation that she actually meant something to him—that he trusted her—had sent shockwaves through her body she had never felt before. She thought that maybe he held more feelings for her than she could have imagined, feelings that could be revealed during his recovery.

Her thoughts couldn't have been further from the truth.

Sherlock's stay at Molly's had been brief in all accounts. After a full 24 hours of sleeping, Sherlock took it upon himself to make Molly's living room into a Moriarty hack network, in which he "borrowed" her laptop and spent the majority of his stay researching the criminal. Whenever Molly approached him, Sherlock told her he was "too busy" to talk. The food she made for him went uneaten on the plates that she brought out for him, though he regularly drank she poured for him. The only time Sherlock would arise from the living room was the use the bathroom. It was during this brief moments that Molly would occasionally lock eyes with the detective, who would look at her as if she were some sort of stranger. Molly came and went from her flat without any acknowledge from Sherlock that she had gone or arrived home.

For three days, Sherlock slept, drank and stayed in her house, without mumbling much more than requests for coffee. On the morning of forth day of his arrival, Molly walked into her living room to find it completely clean and organized. On top of her laptop, there was a note addressed to her.

_Thanks for your kindness and accommodation. I am forever indebted. -SH _

Molly watched as her tears smeared the black ink on the note, as she slowly lowered herself onto the spot on the sofa in which Sherlock had inhabited less than a few hours ago. She had risked her job, her reputation, to save a man that had used her home as a motel. She had lied to the police for a man who hadn't even had the decency to thank her in person. And yet, she couldn't help but wonder if she'll ever see him again.

She crumpled the letter and threw it on the floor. _If I __**counted**__ he wouldn't have done this to me. He would have had the decency to treat me like a human, to say goodbye. _Molly rose from the sofa and walked toward her room. A slow cooling started to numb the ache that permeated in her chest.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly had just clasped her gold chain around her neck when her doorbell rang. A huge smile spread across her face when she opened the door.

"Nick, it's great to see you," she said as she pulled the tall, blonde man standing in front of her into a tight hug.

Nick and Molly had been dating for two months and things were going well. He was everything that Sherlock wasn't: free-spirited, polite, American. In fact, Nick was so whimsical that he had decided to move to London obecause "he needed a break from the Boston academia grind." He had spent a few months cooking at restaurants and working odd jobs before he landed a spot teaching English at the City University of London. They had met at a coffee shop near the University that Molly just happened to walk into during an unprecedented rainstorm. He bought her a coffee.

It had felt good to be given coffee.

"'So, where to tonight?" Nick said as he shuffled Molly out the door. "I heard there's a new bar up in Camden that's supposed to be pretty sick. There's live music and a well-drink special. What do you think?"

Molly wasn't one for loud music, or excessive drinking, but the thought of doing anything with Nick made her bubbly inside. "Sure," she said. "It sounds perfect."

* * *

Molly and Nick arrived the bar around 10 p.m., right as the band was setting up. Molly sat down at a table close to the bar as Nick put an arm around her shoulder.

"What do you want, babe?"

"A whiskey sour would be good," Molly said as she watched Nick walk up to the bar to get their first round of drinks. Nick always bought the first drink of the night, and made sure to ask her what she wanted, even though her order never changed. He sure knew his manners, unlike the previous man to which she had devoted her heart.

"Molly, is that you?"

Molly glanced up to see a petite, blonde woman giving her a wide-eyed grin. She couldn't believe that she was seeing Mary, John Watson's fiance.

"Oh, Mary! It's wonderful to see you!"

Molly almost knocked over her stool as she stood up to embrace her friend. Molly and Mary had gotten acquainted a few months after she started dating John. He had introduced them one day when she was out to lunch with him. For several months after Sherlock's death, John had often asked Molly to meet up, mainly talk about his ex-roommate, being that she was one the only other people on the planet that seemed to have had a positive interaction with him.

As Mary and John became more serious, Molly saw less of John. She was happy that John was able to find someone who take his mind off Sherlock, and was even more happy when they announced their engagement less than two weeks ago.

"Molls, it's been FOREVER! And you haven't been returning my calls" said Mary as she ushered John into the conversation. "I was telling John the other day that something must be keeping you occupied.

Suddenly, a drink appeared next to Molly's hand as she felt an arm wrap around her waist. She glanced up to see her brown-eyed boyfriend grinning at her.

"Oh, so you were right, then, Mary" said John as she grinned at Molly.

Molly quickly introduced Nick to Mary and John, and it wasn't long until Nick and John were engaged in a conversation about some golf tournament that was going on in Scotland. As the boys chatted, Molly felt Mary grip her arm and pull her toward the corner of the bar.

"So, has John told you?"

"About your engagement? Of course, Mary! And you're ring is beautiful, by the way" said Molly as she pulled Mary's left hand to get a better look at it."

"Oh, thank you, Molly. But it's not that. Has he told you anything about _Sherlock_?"

Molly felt a wrench clamp around her stomach.

"He's not, dead, Molly. He somehow faked his death when he jumped from St. Bart's and has been staying at Baker Street in secret. Only John, Mrs. Hudson and I know that's he's alive," she said as she took Molly's hand. "But I thought you deserved to know. I know that you two were close when he worked at the morgue."

Molly tried her best to stay composed as she listened to her friend confirm that she man she had kept alive was back, was safe, and had taken no effort to let her know these things for _four weeks_.

"If you want, I can arrange a meeting between you two," said Mary. "If you let me speak to John, he can speak to Sherlock and maybe you could drop by the flat…"

"That won't be necessary" Molly said as she dropped Mary's hand from her own. "I must say I'm…shocked…and relieved to hear he's okay. But don't worry about setting up a meeting."

Molly watched Mary's eyebrows lift she as took sip of her drink. "The truth is, if Sherlock wanted to see me, he would have done so already. I think it's best that we keep it the way that it is, though I do appreciate you thinking of me."

Molly walked back to Nick and John, who were now talking about some collegiate basketball team. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered into Nick's ear that she was ready to go.

Somehow, after a year and now one month of no interaction with him, Sherlock Holmes still had the power to ruin her night.


	3. Chapter 3

Molly slapped off her alarm and glanced at her clock. A red 6:00 blinked back at her. She sighed before somehow managing to strip off her blanket and pushing herself out of bed. She was surprised how funny her head was feeling, considering she didn't even finish her drink last night.

She had left the bar in a huff. Nick kept asking her what was wrong and she managed to come up with a cover about how she had an early day tomorrow and that her stomach was bothering her. The early day part was true, the stomachache, was _slightly _honest. She just didn't have the gall to let him know that her stomach had flipped-flopped over the mention of a particular someone's name.

Molly stripped off her pink T-shirt, walked to her bathroom and climbed into the shower, hoping the warm water would soothe her now pounding head. She knew she shouldn't have lied to Nick, but she didn't see the point in telling him about Sherlock. For the past few months, it had been exhilarating to not have to think about him. Nick had taken her away from everything that had bothered her about her old life: he took to her bars she would have never set foot in before, her encouraged her to meet new people and try new things. He even got her to stop frequenting the lab so often on weekends (though he had no clue she was headed there on this Sunday morning—just to get caught up on a _tad bit_ a paperwork).

Nick's presence was fresh, exciting—it forced her out of her comfort zone and made her feel like a completely new person. Bringing up Sherlock and her old feelings for him would just complicate things.

And who did Sherlock think he was, anyway? She had risked everything helping him, and he didn't even bother to tell her that he was back in town. He was most likely trying to get reacquainted with his old life. Obviously, he had made amends with John and Mrs. Hudson. He was most likely working on getting Lestrade back on his side, let alone the British media. Not once had he thought about letting the woman who had saved his life know that he was okay.

So much for the woman "_who counted_."

Molly shut off the tap, wrapped a towel around her waist and walked into her bedroom. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She touched the soft, dark circles under her eyes. She had to admit that their presence were much more frequent ever since she had begun dating Nick. He was a night owl and loved to keep her out late—even when she had work in the morning. Sighing, she decided that a cup of herbal tea might help her look slightly more awake at the hospital.

Molly hadn't taken more than a step out her room before she let out a scream.


	4. Chapter 4

Standing in front of her was a curly-haired man holding a steaming mug of tea.

"Hello, Molly. I made this for you. You like yerba mate, right?"

"Sh-sh—er?" It was the only sound Molly could manage to make without choking.

"Sherrr-_lock_?" He smirked as she took a step toward her. "Yes, Molly, it's me. In fact, I'm surprised to see that you're so shocked. You knew all along that was in fact alive, and Mary told you last night I was in town. I figured you would have deduced from that conversation that I may get in touch soon."

Molly took a deep breathe before spinning around and marching back into her room. She shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, catching her breathe. She heard Sherlock mumble, "Molly?" as she quickly stripped off her towel, threw on some clothes and combed her wet hair. She then opened the door to the now rather confused-looking Sherlock.

"Is there something you need, Sherlock?"

Molly continued to get ready as Sherlock watched her from her doorframe. She could see him looking at her, deducing her, as she put on her socks and went to the closet to find her work shoes. She glanced back at the detective, who hadn't said a word since she made her inquiry.

"I asked if there was a reason that you're here," said Molly.

Sherlock's eyes widened slightly. "Not particularly. I just came to check up on you."

Molly couldn't help but let a quiet laugh escape from the back of her throat. "That's humorous Sherlock, considering how inconsiderate you've been for the past year."

She could feel it now. All the fire that she had fueled inside for the past year was slowing making it's way to the surface. She had never felt anger this deeply before, let alone, let it show in front of another person. For the first time in life, she didn't care.

"I don't know how you can assume that I've been inconsiderate toward you, Molly, when I've been away from the past year tracking down and eliminating Moriarty's network," said Sherlock as he placed the tea mug on her bureau. He crossed his arm as he leaned back against it before glancing back up at the now extremely irritated pathologist."I've been to four continents in the past twelve months. It took me at least three months to get find someone who could lead me to a link in his network, let alone the time needed to eliminate his entire chain."

"So what about letters, Sherlock, _a text_…maybe the use of the Internet?" Molly felt her pitch of her voice rising. "Didn't you ever think that dropping a line to the woman who risked her career may have made her feel a little less used?"

"Used?" Sherlock said. "Molly, I never intended…"

"I really don't care what your intentions were, Sherlock,' said Molly as she grabbed her wet hair and pulled into a tight bun. "The facts remain the same. I saved your life, helped you when you were at your weakest, and regarded me no more than you would a _stranger_. Do you realize you didn't even talk to me for the three days in which you inhabited my living room? I brought you food, brought you coffee, worried that you were hurting, worried that one of Moriarty's henchman would somehow find you, and one day I woke up and you were just…_gone_."

"I realize that I may have appeared extremely insensitive during those times, but it was essential that I started my research on Moriarty as soon as possible after my 'death' to ensure that I keep a lead on his connections."

"_Fuck_ his connections."

Molly thought she heard Sherlock gasped as the profanity escaped her lips, though sound may have very well come from her own throat. "You don't…treat people like that, Sherlock. You just…don't."

Molly grabbed her purse and walked out her room. She heard Sherlock follow her to the door and suddenly felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned to look at Sherlock. His eyes appeared sullen, heavy, like they had been awake for a very long time.

"I am truly sorry if I had made you feel this way. It was never my intention."

Molly brushed Sherlock's hand off her shoulder. "Sorry is just not good enough,"

She wiped away the tears as she opened the door and plummeted down the stairs, leaving the detective behind in her apartment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi everyone, sorry for the delay in this update! I am in grad school and have been swamped with work all week. I also am in the midst of applying for jobs, so my time to write is very limited. So bare with me, as new chapters will pop up as quickly as I can pump them out.**

**And thanks for all the feedback! Feels good to know someone's reading this. Also, sorry for all the typos in the previous chapters-I uploaded them late at night. Hopefully this one will be cleaner :)**

* * *

Molly was adjusting the focus on her microscope when a tiny beep made her look down at her mobile phone.

**Message from Nick**: Hey, babe, whatcha doing?

Molly stared at the text message for a few seconds, wondering whether or not she should respond. She knew that it would have been wise for her to text back her boyfriend, but somehow, couldn't muster the strength to maintain any social interaction at the moment. Her interaction—well, _confrontation_—with Sherlock this morning had drained every bit of energy from her body.

She couldn't believe that he had been there—just standing in her apartment to what, make her tea? She knew he didn't expect to receive a rant when he decided to break into her flat this morning. The look in his eyes when she told him to essentially—_fuck off_—had been so surprised, shocked, it made her feel good that he had possibly felt a bit of the hurt she had been feeling for the past year. He had deserved it, after all.

(The strange part was that she couldn't figure out why she was feeling so guilty about it).

Her phone buzzed again, which startled her so greatly that she picked it up, only to read a second message from Nick.

**Message from Nick**: Wanna grab a late lunch?

Sighing, she decided that joining her boyfriend this afternoon would hopefully help her turn her day around.

**Reply to Nick**: Yes, sounds great! I'm at Bart's now finishing up. I'll meet you at your flat in 15 minutes.

Placing her phone in her purse, Molly walked toward the door when she heard two male voices approaching the lab in the hall outside. She recognized John's voice, which was saying something about getting the necessary covers to work the case, followed by an audible huff from a very low, baritone voice.

Molly had just enough time to shuffle to the left as Sherlock and John burst through the doors.

Molly watched as Sherlock took off his navy blue scarf and threw it on an empty stool. He looked around the lab before turning around and spotting Molly, who had shoved herself as far into the back wall as possible. She was somehow hoping that this action would make her invisible.

"Ah, Molly. I was hoping you would be here. I require some assistance for a new case."

Molly continued to lean against the wall. Was he kidding? Was her honestly asking for her help…again?

"You could start with asking her how she is, or if she has anything else to do at the moment," said John as he quickly nodded at Molly. "She looks like she's on her way out of here."

Molly noticed that John's eyes seemed all-knowing, and sort of sad, as he glanced up at Sherlock. She wondered if Sherlock had mentioned anything about their fight earlier in the day.

"John's right," said Molly, leaning up from the wall. "I was just on my way out to grab lunch. I haven't eaten all day."

"I figured that, that's why I brought you this," said Sherlock as he pulled a dark chocolate raspberry bar from his pocket. She had mentioned to him years ago that it was her favorite kind of candy bar, something she craved when she was having a stressful day. She wondered if he had actually remembered her remark, or if it was a coincidence that he purchased it for her.

Molly was about to tell Sherlock that she needed to go when he quickly interrupted her-deducing her thoughts from her taught, expressionless face.

"Molly, I know that I upset you this morning. In fact, I've been upsetting you since I left your apartment so abruptly last year."

Molly watched John lift an eyebrow as the consulting detective continued to speak to her.

"It was wrong of me to leave your apartment without saying goodbye in person. At the time, I believed it was in my best interest to settle Moriarty's network as quickly as possible. I was not thinking about how my actions could affect the person who had helped me in my most vulnerable state. For that, Molly, I am truly sorry."

Molly watched as Sherlock crossed the room, pausing when he arrived at a spot that was only a few inches from her face. She wondered if he could hear her heart beating, which had quickened significantly since Sherlock started his speech.

"I am also aware that you're probably wondering why I have been in London for a month without seeing you. The truth is, I have….."

Suddenly, the lab doors opened and Nick waltzed into the lab. He gave a quick nod to John before spying Molly in the room. She glanced up at Sherlock, who hadn't moved from her personal space, before slipping from the closeness of the consulting detective and moving toward her boyfriend.

"Sorry, Molls," said Nick as he pulled her into close to him, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. "I'm just completely starving and couldn't wait to eat. I figured I'd grab you here and we could cab it to the restaurant. I didn't know you were working with John today, though, and…."

Nick looked at Sherlock, expecting him to say his name. Sherlock just stared back at him, his face expressionless.

Molly interrupted the tension. "Nick, this is Sherlock. He's an old colleague of mine. John and him help the police solve crimes and use this lab to gather information."

"Oh, nice!" Nick said as he walked toward John and patted him on the shoulder. "John, I wouldn't haven't pegged you for an investigator. You on the other hand," said Nick as he pointed at Sherlock, "with that long, _sick_ jacket of yours, you really look like a detective. It's nice to meet you."

Molly watched as Nick walked toward Sherlock and held out his hand. Sherlock remained frozen in place, still staring at Nick without a hint of emotion. Eventually, Nick retracted his hand.

"Um, all right then, dude," said Nick as he glanced back at Molly. "I guess I'll take that as our cue to get going. Are you ready to go?"

Molly looked back at Sherlock, who now had his eyes pinned on her. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, let alone _feeling_. All she knew was that as soon as Nick entered the room, it was as if the life had been sucked dry from Sherlock.

"Yes, I'm ready," said Molly as she continued to gaze at Sherlock. She wanted to say something, to acknowledge that she had listened to his apology, but couldn't find the words. Suddenly, she found herself being shuffled out the door by her boyfriend.

"I'll catch you later, John," said Nick as he pushed on the door, holding it open for Molly.

As she walked out of the lab, she noticed Sherlock was still staring at her.


End file.
